


undoing

by saltwater_oracle



Series: wish fulfillment [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids Have Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, if the first one wounded you this one should heal you, part one not required, they'll explain, they're sweet and they're in love ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwater_oracle/pseuds/saltwater_oracle
Summary: "Did you really want to be fucked senseless, or do you want to be gently undone?"Sixty confides in Connor about an upsetting experience with Nines. Not only is Connor more understanding than expected, but he reveals an unrequited love of his own.
Relationships: Connor/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Series: wish fulfillment [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202195
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	undoing

Sixty slogged through each day of work. He avoided Nines when he could, which was most of the time, and anxiety dogged him when he got ready each morning. He couldn’t focus. He didn’t want to. Everything was ruined because of his foolish desire, his stupid hope. Nines didn’t even like him that way - he'd only been a replacement for Connor. Their friend. Sixty had known what Nines wanted, and he’d done it anyway - he’d lied to himself just so he could know what it was like to be wanted, only to have it thrown back in his face that he wasn't wanted at all. And now their friendships were strained, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look Nines in the eye (actually, Nines couldn’t either - they avoided each other equally and whenever he sensed an apology on Nines’ lips, he turned away. He didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t stomach that. He’d been used, and used him equally, he thought.) Connor was always watching with that too-cunning stare, though, and one day he asked Sixty to come back to his apartment - to just "hang out." “You seem stressed lately. Why don’t we watch a movie tonight?”

“I’m okay,” Sixty had said.

“You’re not busy, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Then come on. It’ll be fun.” He’d agreed, but as the evening drew closer, anxiety rose up in him. What were they going to talk about? Did Connor already know what happened?

—

He went home with Connor that evening - he didn’t know why he gave in to the pressure, but they both knew he’d never show if he had the chance to go back to his own place and think up an excuse. They sat at the kitchen table together, but there wasn’t any tea to prepare, not like humans would’ve, and Sixty kept his eyes fixed on his hands and the tabletop. Connor touched his shoulder.

“Hey. Six.”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you?”

He didn’t even have it in him to pretend. He just sighed.

“Six, come on. Look at me.” He wouldn't. “Six. Hey.” Connor laid his head on the table and tickled Sixty’s nose with his breath till he jumped back. Connor grinned. “There you are. Talk to me?”

“I don’t…” he fidgeted.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re gonna be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you? You’re my friend. You can tell me anything.”

He looked up. Connor’s heart broke at the pained expression. “I made a mistake.”

“Is it about Nines? I know you two aren’t talking.”

"Mm-hm. I - um...I thought...I hoped he-" he sighed again, curling into himself a little. Connor put a cool hand over his. He wanted to tear it away, to throw the chair back and say, _Don't you understand, I ruined everything for you,_ but he just bit his lip and said, "I just wanted him to like me."

"I always thought he did."

"No, not - I wanted him to...I wanted to be - I thought if I was good, then he would want me more than..." he trailed off, gaze fixed firmly to the table.

Connor's eyes narrowed. "You were being good," he said it like a statement. "Like you would for Amanda?"

"Um, sort of. Not - not really. I knew he wanted you, and I wanted - someone. Anyone. So - so I asked him if it was me, even though I knew it wasn't, and he said yes, and I thought if I did everything like he wanted, then he'd keep wanting me, and nobody else..." he inhaled shakily.

"What did you do?"

"I let him - I told him he could...in the bathroom, we-" he swallowed, "we fucked."

"Oh," Connor said.

"He said your name," he continued, "while he was fucking me."

"Oh."

Anger bubbled up inside him at Connor's blank expression, his mouth's little _oh's_ , and it urged him to go on, to spit the words out hard and fast. "He interfaced some fantasy he had of dogging you. He's got a thing about your fingers. He wanted to see you unbutton your shirt and undo your belt with your nice, long fingers. He wanted to count your freckles. He wanted-"

"Why," Connor cut him off. "If you knew, why?"

"Like I said," he snapped, "I wanted him to like me."

Connor's expression softened from the interrogator's hard edges into something closer to pity. "I didn't know you liked Nines."

"I _don't_ ," he snarled, a _not anymore_ burning at the back of his throat. "I wanted" - he inhaled - "I wanted _someone_ to like me. To want me...that way. To lo-" he broke off, mouth twisting. "Never mind."

"You didn't have to go looking for that," Connor said. His hand peeled away to white. "Here." Sixty frowned at him, before allowing his own skin to fade away, and accepted the interface.

Fluttering warmth filled his chest. He saw the moment Connor found him in the lab, bullet in his chest, and awakened him. He felt the apprehension and residual anger; Connor squeezed his hand as he tensed. _Just wait._ Resentment. Concern. An overwhelming sense of hope as Connor sat with him every day, had conversations with him, taught him how to go out and do “human things” and meet new people even when he was afraid. How to apologize, even if you weren’t forgiven after. Through it, there was a growing warmth, a softness that enveloped him like a hug. The first day Sixty started work with the DPD, shadowing Connor and Hank, and Connor giving him comforting words and smiles through his shifts for those early months. He remembered those days, how frightening they were, but Connor never stopped encouraging him, even now. But the warmth grew and grew from hope to love, love like he thought he'd never feel, for a friend, for the only person who could ever understand him - and then more.

Sixty let go of his hand with a gasp. Connor watched him. After a long moment he said, “I’m sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it? I - you’re overwhelmed.” He squeezed Sixty's hand tighter. “I just want you to know you’re loved and wanted and - and whatever you think about me doesn’t matter. But you don’t need to fuck some douchebag in a bathroom for love. It’s right here, okay? It’ll always be here.” Sixty looked up at him, and inhaled shakily.

"I didn't know," he mumbled, and he started to cry. Connor pulled his chair forward and wrapped him in an embrace, grateful that Sixty's hair would catch his own tears.

—

Weeks later, Sixty lay nestled in Connor’s arms. It’d taken a while for him to process what Connor had said - and how he’d felt about it. He'd run through all the possibilities, how he'd felt about Connor before knowing and how he'd felt about him after, but there'd always been something there, he realized, an unspoken connection that tugged them together in spite of everything. Connor meant comfort to him, and trust, and he'd spent every minute of Sixty's deviant life trying to show him. Maybe he didn't believe him yet, but he could try. He snuggled into Connor, mouth dangerously close to his throat.

“Connor?” He whispered against the other’s skin. He could see Connor’s Adam’s apple bob as he spoke.

“Hm?” He stretched his arms that wrapped loosely around Sixty.

“I love you.”

Connor smiled wide and goofy. He pulled back to look at Sixty. “I love you, too.”

“Do you think we’re okay like this?"

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…being something…together…?”

He shrugged. “Mm. I’m not going anywhere if you’re not.”

“No, I mean…us.”

“I know. You’re the only one for me,” he said. “Do you want a word for this?”

“I don’t know. I’m - I think I’m happy.”

Connor’s breath ruffled his hair. “Me too.”

—

Connor didn’t want to admit that he wondered what Nines had seen that day. It repulsed him, knowing how he’d lied to Sixty, but sometimes when his anger drew him to that moment, another part of him wandered off, to Sixty, up against a wall - or maybe a bathroom stall - or leaning against the sinks, looking in the mirror - his bare back, blushing face - Goddamn, he hated himself for it. He thought about it other times, too, when Sixty was buried in his arms or showering after a messy day at work or sometimes when he wasn’t even there. More than a few times he’d had to sneak away to the restroom, hands precariously covering himself - at work, at home - and blow off some steam. It was natural, sure, but it wasn’t right. Things had gone so wrong for Sixty so recently, and he would readily jack himself off in the dark for as long as it took him to be comfortable. It wasn’t like sex was missing from their relationship, anyway. It was just - absent.

They were sitting on the floor, backs to the couch, watching a movie, when that thought came to him. He’d spaced out - it was some dumb action movie, not so far off from his daily life, and yet somehow less exciting - and his thoughts drew him to Sixty, that soft face, red, mouth half-open in a moan, his fingers in Connor’s mouth, silicone-white - oh. Shit. He totally had a boner. He needed to cover this, but they were both tangled in the blankets, having formed a pillow nest on the rug. He tried to subtly pull the blanket over, but when he reached out, Sixty put a hand on his. Connor paused, trying desperately not to tense up. Sixty ran his thumb along Connor’s knuckles and nestled his head further into the crook of his shoulder with a hum. Connor's other arm was around Sixty. It’d be too obvious, but the lump in his pants was growing the more Sixty pressed into him, that sweet little hum he’d just made sending heat up his groin. He tried to steady his breathing.

“Six, you’re hogging the blanket.”

Sixty looked up at him incredulously. “Me? I’d never.”

“My legs are cold.” He tried to pull the blanket up.

“Your legs don’t get cold, idiot.” Sixty put a hand on his erection. Connor just stared at it. “I’m just messing with you,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking.” He reached up to blow a puff of air into Connor’s ear. Connor’s face reddened. He kissed Connor’s cheek and ran his thumb along his hardening bulge. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, you running to the bathroom all the time? It’s a little weird for an android.”

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he choked out as Sixty took hold of him.

“That’s why I like you. But it’s okay. I wanna.” He threw aside the blankets and straddled Connor’s hips, pressing kisses to his freckles. Connor wrapped his arms around Sixty’s waist.

“Six,” he murmured, as the other rubbed against him. Sixty kissed his lips. “Mm.” He opened his mouth, groaning as he tasted the other’s tongue and unique saliva. Almost like his own, but not quite. “You taste good,” he mumbled between kisses. Sixty rubbed harder against him, gasping as Connor slid his hand up Sixty’s back, running a finger along each metal vertebra before settling at his port. He felt the heat rising inside him. He’d been all pent up for a while, and he moaned as he came. Well. He wasn’t getting more than one day out of those boxers (a distinctly android advantage, Hank had informed him. But these were spent.)

Sixty giggled. “That was fast.”

“I was trying to be - ah,” Connor paused as Sixty pulled his shirt off; it had already been rolled up most of the way over Connor’s hand. He had freckles all the same places Connor did, and that same lean-muscled frame. “You’re beautiful.”

Sixty grinned mischievously and leaned in. “Were you looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking about this?”

“No. We’re - we’re not the same. It wouldn’t - it’s different. You’re different. I couldn’t picture it right, if it - if it wasn’t you.” He was all flustered now. Wasn’t he supposed to be the pillar of support during this sensitive time? This was just unfair. He pushed his fingernail into the indent in Sixty’s port.

Sixty gasped. “Hey!”

“What?” Connor did it again, rubbing his nail back and forth. Sixty gave a little whine in his ear. “I was wondering something.”

“Mm…”

“Did you really wanna be fucked senseless?”

Sixty pressed his face into Connor’s cheek.

“Or,” he whispered. “Do you want to be gently undone?”

Six exhaled. “Undo me,” he breathed. “I want to feel everything.”

Connor pushed his fingers into Sixty’s mouth and drew away his skin. Sixty’s LED flickered yellow as he sucked at them. Connor cupped Sixty’s erection in his hand and pressed against it, watching as the other’s eyelashes fluttered, his system processing the extra stimulus. He pulled his fingers away with an audible _smack!_ of Sixty’s lips so he could unzip both pairs of jeans. Six watched him as he did so, huffing softly as Connor pulled out his member.

“Touch me,” Sixty said.

Connor smiled as he ran his hand up and down Sixty's erection a few times before pulling them together. He grunted, watching the soft, red face of his friend. He leaned forward for a kiss, his tongue in Six's mouth, tasting the warming saliva as their systems tried to keep up with the growing stimuli. The sound of thirium rapidly running through his own system in a desperate attempt to cool down whirred in his ears.

"Mm - Con-nor-" Sixty's words broke off as his voice box stuttered, resources allocated elsewhere. He pulled away from the kiss, panting, the intake of cooler air evidently doing little for him as he looked down to watch Connor's hand working them up at once. "I'm gonna- I want-" he looked up at his partner.

"What?" Connor grinned lopsidedly and leaned in. "What do you want?"

"Ah - I want -" he put his hand over Connor's, gripping his shoulder tightly with the opposite as he came. Connor could hear his ventilator humming louder. Sixty pressed his wet lips to Connor's ear sloppily to say, "I want you inside me." He hadn't come yet, but those words sent a throbbing heat up into him that brought him closer to the edge.

"I wanna _be_ inside you," he said back. He dragged his fingers through Sixty's cum and drew his hand around his hip before sliding his first finger in. Sixty held Connor's face in his hands and stared intently at his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I only wanna think of you," he rasped. "Connor. My Connor. You're the one." His words dropped off shakily as another finger entered him, pressing, rubbing inside, just where he liked it.

"You're the one," Connor repeated back, head tilting as Sixty struggled to keep his eyes open, mouth parted as his systems tried to exhale the overheated air. "My Six." Sixty's hum broke into a moan as Connor's fingers pushed deeper and wider. "Can I?"

"Yes, _yes._ " Sixty stood, briefly, peeling out of his pants and allowing Connor to do the same before he lowered himself back onto his knees. Connor held his hip with one hand, lining himself up with Sixty and gently bringing him down. Sixty exhaled a long breath through his nose, eyes on Connor, always on Connor as he wrapped his arms around him again, a long delicate finger tracing a circle around the port at his neck. He was completely inside now, and so, so close to finishing already, but he'd go again, for this, he'd go again and again-

"How do you feel?" he murmured against Sixty's collarbone, leaning in to trace a line down to his nipple.

"Go-good, it's -" he pulled Connor's head back by his hair, again fixed on his face. "Connor," he breathed. "Connor." He moved slowly at first; Connor was burning every ounce of self-restraint to let Sixty take the wheel and get comfortable.

He grabbed hold of his hips, pressure finally releasing as he came inside Sixty. "God," he gasped, kissing him, "maybe you're undoing _me._ "

He smiled at that, lopsided as Connor, and kissed his cheek. He rode Connor more confidently now, his self-assurance seeming to rest in his ability to turn Connor to putty. He couldn't stand for that, though, and brushed his thumb along Sixty's erection as he began to move his own hips. "Hey," Sixty gasped, "that's not fa-a-ir," his voice again falling into static as Connor bucked up into him, not hard, just enough for Six to tighten his grip on Connor's hair and dig his fingernails into the edges of his port.

"Mm." He pulled Sixty forward into another kiss, his lips burning hot, spent air desperately trying to escape them, but each was breathing in the other's exhaust. "You're so good," he said, but Sixty dragged him back by the hair again to watch his face.

"Say it again," he said.

"You're so good," Connor repeated, his fingers pressing into his hip as he thrust against him. Six had paused, entirely focused on Connor's words. "So beautiful. You're pe-erfect," now it was his own voice failing, a REDUCE SYSTEM STRESS warning flashing across his HUD. "There's nobody like you." Sixty smiled, his eyes tearing up a little. "Hey, hey-" Connor pressed a palm to his cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, leaning into Connor's hand as he started moving again, more intently now, a rhythm rising with the flush in his cheeks. His eyelids fluttered closed, mouth open as he huffed softly. "I love you."

He laughed a little breathlessly, "I love you, too." He bucked against him harder now, faster, and Six responded in kind, leading Connor's hand back to his member. "I -" he gave up on his words and only groaned, HUD flashing all warnings about _heat_ and _stimulus_ and _stress._ This would reduce his stress, alright. Sixty clawed at his port, nails scraping against his chassis as pleasure took him away, one last shuddering moan and a spray of cum across Connor's stomach marking him finished. Connor held him there, a few more thrusts and he was gone- gone into a world with only him and Sixty and the heat between them. Sixty fell against him, ventilator overloud - or was it Connor's? - and rapidly panting. His system temperature dropped, slowly, and so did Sixty's, but neither of them moved. He ran his hand through Six's hair.

"Connor," he murmured, shifting to rest his head in the crook of Connor's neck. "Mm." Connor leaned back against the couch and pulled out, a quiet laugh escaping him as Six grumbled a protest against being moved. Their systems ticked down into almost-silence, as they lay there, entangled and really, truly happy.


End file.
